


rubberbander

by LadyPrince



Category: Starfighter (Comic), Starfighter Eclipse
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Stream of Consciousness, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 09:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPrince/pseuds/LadyPrince
Summary: Helios always seems like he will jump back from practically anything that Cain does to him - and with a person like that, a boy like him can't help but dream of violence.





	rubberbander

**Author's Note:**

> Music/Songs listened to for this: [ Breaking Things into Pieces ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NdOtYgQQjjY) and [the Darkest Dungeon crimson court DLC OST extended.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6wq0_wpShM).
> 
> I got nothing. My head feels like it is pounding in ten different directions.

Helios reminds him of a rubber band, and Cain feels like he should be annoyed by that. The other fighter is lucky enough to be on the same squad as him, allowed back into the same damn sphere as him – and what can Cain say? Helios is almost fucking _magnetic._ Abel looks at them oddly, doesn’t question it much; doesn’t want to, thinks too highly of Helios and he lets Cain do whatever, within reason.

That is just fine for him. Helios bounces back, all the damn time; grabs at Cain’s wrists when he kisses too hard, arches his back when he is slammed against a table or wall, body smaller than his own yet still sturdy, strong. It makes Cain almost want to break him apart, a feeling that he hasn’t felt in damn years – the desire to break him into pieces and see what he looks like, see the body bared for what it really is.

Perhaps it just comes with the territory of being him. Helios at the very least looks like he won’t mind; he lets Cain bruise him so damn easily, and he is almost tempted to leave a scar on his face like he has with Abel – something to remind everyone who Helios belongs to now. Not even his navigator can take him away from Cain – he has seen how often he stares at Helios, wanting, desiring, their friendship with each other perfect but their romance perhaps in a confused little limbo of a dance.

“You’re good like this,” Cain whispers into Helios’s ear when he has him panting and red-faced from a kiss that has them both panting and gasping for air, pinning him down into Helios's lower bunk. “ _Perfect_ like this, actually.” He corrects himself, his mouth running on automatic almost, and Helios looks at him with a small smile so sweet it feels almost out of place when Cain takes in the whole of his body: covered in bites and scratches, bruises lining his hips and a large, obvious hickey on his neck. Naked, sweaty skin slide against each other, and Cain’s hands twitch.

He almost wants to strangle Helios just to see what he will do. He holds back on it. Doesn’t want to push it too far – you have to _talk_ about these things, not let instinct and urges run rampant and take over, just because Cain is… Cain is violent, rash, doesn’t mean he can’t be willing and patient to listen. Not all the times but – sometimes.

Helios just makes it seem so easy. Like anything Cain will do to him will make him feel good, like he just doesn’t know how to feel bad; so damn obedient and malleable, jumping back from anything Cain does, no matter how rough and harsh.

“Oh, Cain—” a moan slips out as Cain buries his face in his neck, biting and worsening the hickey there; his voice is so soft, small and sweet, welcoming, tempting. He thrusts up against Cain, fists his hands in his hair, and tugs him close; lithe legs wrap around him, trying to grind his scent even further onto Cain, and he swears he smells sweet like Helios now.

Cain smells like gunpowder and smoke – he knows it because Abel has told him so many times he smells very much _himself,_ smells good – and Helios smells like vanilla and maple, something so far removed from Cain that it feels almost wrong. It is oh so easy to forget that feeling when Helios rolls them over, slams Cain down, and looks at him with those half-lidded eyes, flushed face, body soaked in sweat and his hips shimmying downwards.

He grins up at him, cocky and confident, a hand coming up to swipe a sticky strand of hair away before he gets to work on Cain – makes him feel oversensitive, on the edge of _too much_ and _more, give him more,_ and he wonders.

Just wonders, for a second or ten, what it will be like to choke Helios and see how he deals with it: will he hate Cain for it? Love it but ask for negotiations? Deck him? Choke him back? He _hopes_ Helios will choke him back.

His world comes to a halt as white flashes in front of his eyes, his entire body strung-up tight and he gasps, surprised he still has something to give, and when he looks down he can see Helios’s mouth wide open, tongue poking out to barely show anything on it, before he swallows it down anyway.

“Wanna stop?” Helios huffs out, his head resting on Cain’s thigh, and he looks good like that. A collar and a leash’ll fit him nice; maybe he can take him out for walks if he gets those, and see how much Helios loves humiliation. Maybe he will love it as much as he loves praise. His skin is hot and flushed against Cain’s, makes him feel burned up, heating up, and he bites his lower lip just so that he stays quiet and admires the scene a little more.

Those pretty little eyes of his glow, content and glazed, from the aftermath, from giving to Cain, being obedient, and he thinks humiliation will be a fucking pretty colour to drown him in. He reaches down, pets his hair, runs his fingers through it and says, “yeah, let’s go do your usual cuddly shit, huh, Helios?”

“You’re a cuddle monster too, you know.” Helios scoffs out, wobbles as he stands, and flinches when he realizes how dirty he is. “Ah, should we shower-“

“Nope, cuddle time now, queenie. We’re goin’ the fuck to bed, and worrying about being dirty later. That’s an _order,_ Helios.”

He laughs; it sounds good. Nice. Not at all malicious. “Yes, _sir._ ” His Adam’s apple bobs.

His throat will look nice with hand-shaped bruises.

[Not tonight, though. Not tonight.]

**Author's Note:**

> [ Pillowfort. ](https://www.pillowfort.social/transistor) | [ Tumblr. ](https://transistories.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/EmptyHeartLover)


End file.
